Eve Babitz

  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    When she smiled, her perfect white teeth slashed the air with sudden beauty, giving her a glow of confidence that smacked of rude invincibility.
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    All three rooms looked straight out into a horizon of blue, gray, green Pacific with sunsets blazing orange in summer and glowing pink in winter.
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    ‘Truth is like old brandy; it should only be brought out late at night among close friends.’
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    The white flowers threw Max’s elegant silhouette into a sort of bas-relief, like Ghiberti’s Gates of Paradise, in Florence, golden. The sunshine was golden. The cigarette smoke and coffee smelled golden.
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    Max’s laugh was like a dragnet; it picked up every living laugh within the vicinity and shined a light on it, intensified it, pitched it higher.
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    Her heart still turned four golden beats whenever he stayed late and the sun would shine a certain way across his profile.
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    And he could tell her anything: boring things about what he’d been doing—only she didn’t get bored, she just liked the sound of his voice.
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    She couldn’t believe that there were some experiences in life one cannot afford. The idea that something was beyond one’s means was preposterous—
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    In the cab going into Manhattan, though, she allowed herself to inhale the skyscrapers across the East River, looking so empty and silent at 7 a.m. in the clear morning sun glaze. Already she felt the bristling of desire come flooding through her veins.
  • history_grцитирует2 года назад
    Hemingway, in his typical grandiose way, said that courage was grace under pressure.
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